


Harry Potter and the Transformation Plague

by BorrowingZe



Series: Harry Potter and the Phantasmal Rebirth [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Touhou Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Basically all the Touhou characters were reincarnated in Harry Potter as Harry Potter characters, Crack Treated Seriously, Dumbledore is Yukari, Everyone is Trans, Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, Harry is Reimu, Hermione is Alice, Neville is Youmu, Nonbinary Character, Reincarnation, Ron is Sanae, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorrowingZe/pseuds/BorrowingZe
Summary: In 1986, an odd transformation swept the population of Magic Britain. Many people found themselves different, changed in one way or another - most could fly, some had odd powers, and most turned into women, even if they were men at first.In 1991, Harry Potter’s first year at Hogwarts is rather different from how it would have been if this had not happened.Or, in which literally almost every Harry Potter character is actually a reincarnated Touhou character.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Series: Harry Potter and the Phantasmal Rebirth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167275
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. The Keeper of Keys

Three - two - one -

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside in the storm, knocking to come in.

BOOM. They knocked again.

Dudley jerked awake. “Where’s the cannon?” he said.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

“Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you - I’m armed!”

There was a pause. Then the door was smashed open, swinging clean off its hinges and landing on the floor with a deafening crash.

Harry stared.

The figure in the open door was a lot smaller than he had expected - smaller than Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, in fact. It was a woman with pink hair and two buns on the sides of her short hair. Her eyes were pink as well, and one of her arms had bandages all over it.

She walked in, stepping around the door and surveying the room. Outside the door, Harry could swear he saw some sort of bird.

The woman, meanwhile, picked up the door with ease and turned around, slotting it back into the doorway like it had never fallen. She turned back to look at them, a slight frown on her face.

“Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey...”

Harry blinked, simply staring further. He hadn’t quite expected the harsh accent from the woman, so he simply stared as she strolled over towards the sofa, where Dudley was sitting frozen in fear.

“Budge up, yeh great lump,” the woman said, her words made rather more terrifying by the fact that she had knocked a door out of its sockets.

Dudley squeaked in terror, scrambling off the couch to hide behind his mother, who in turn was hiding behind her husband.

“And here’s Harry!” said the woman, her face softening into a smile as she turned her head to face him. “Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby. O’ course, I was a bit different meself those days.” She chuckled. “Bit more hairy. But look at yeh! Yeh look like yer dad, but you’ve got yer mom’s eyes.”

Uncle Vernon made a rasping noise. “I demand that you leave at once, miss!” he said, his shotgun shaking. “This is breaking and entering!”

The woman snorted and stood up. “Shut up, Dursley,” she said. Walking towards Uncle Vernon and ignoring the shotgun trained at her the whole time, she stopped in front of him and pulled the shotgun right out of his hands before bending it drastically and throwing it into a corner.

Uncle Vernon squeaked.

“Anyway, Harry,” the woman said, turning her back to the Dursleys, who now seemed very insignificant, and walking back towards the couch to sit in it once again, “a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I coulda sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste alright.”

She reached into the inside pocket of her overcoat and pulled out a box - it was a little squashed but mostly fine.

Harry opened it, his hands trembling as he did so. Inside there was a birthday cake with the words ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ written on it with green icing.

Harry looked up at the woman, unable to find the words he wanted to say until he blurted out “Who are you?”

The woman chuckled. “That’s right, I haven’t introduced meself yet. Well, me name’s Hagrid. Just Hagrid. Used to be me surname but, well, couldn’t exactly keep me old first name after what happened. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” She stuck out her hand towards Harry.

He took it almost hesitantly, and the two shook hands. Hagrid thankfully seemed to be somewhat in control of her strength, given that Harry wasn’t thrown around like a ragdoll or something.

“So, how’s about that tea, eh?” she asked again, rubbing her hands together. “If yeh got summat stronger though, I wouldn’t complain.”

What followed was a solid minute or so of Hagrid rifling through her overcoat’s pockets and bringing out a rather eclectic set of kitchen supplies including a kettle, a metal poker, and two immaculately crafted china teacups, as well as a package of sausages and a bottle of some sort of liquid that stank from where Harry was sitting, which she took a small swig from. She had also bent down in front of the fireplace and drawn out an umbrella from her apparently comically large pockets, pointing it at the fireplace and setting it on fire, and then proceeded to start preparing some tea.

Dudley started to fidget a little as he watched Hagrid cook some of the sausages on a poker that she had taken out.

“Don’t touch anything that she gives you, Dudley,” Uncle Vernon snapped.

All Hagrid did was chuckle. “Don’ worry, Dursley; yer great puddin’ of a son won’ be getting any o’ this.”

When the sausages were done, Hagrid took a few off the poker and handed them to Harry, who gobbled them up like a vacuum. They tasted delicious.

The silence as he did so, only broken by the crackling of the flames, was stifling. After Harry had gulped down the last remains of one of the sausages, he waited a few seconds for his mouth to cool, then looked back at Hagrid. “I’m sorry, but I’m still not really sure who you are,” he said.

The woman took a sip of her tea, then smiled. “Like I said, I’m Hagrid - Keeper o’ Keys at Hogwarts - yeh’d know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.”

“Um, er, actually I don’t,” Harry said. “Sorry.”

Hagrid’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry?” she said. Her voice held a tone of anger. “Why do yeh think yer the one who has to say sorry?”She turned towards the Dursleys. “It’s these louts that’d better apologize - I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters, but not even knowin’ about Hogwarts? Where did they tell yeh yer parents learned how t’ do it all?”

“Er, all what?”

Hagrid froze. She turned her head back to face Harry, her eyes narrowed into slits with a scowl on her face. “All what?” she said. Her voice sounded calm, but it was clear that she was very much not so. She rose from her seat, turning to face the Dursleys.

“Do you mean ter tell me,” she started, her voice very level, “that this boy knows nothing - nothing - about anything?”

Harry felt his eyebrow twitch. “Hey, I know some things,” he said. “I can do math. And read.”

“Not things like that,” Hagrid said, looking back at Harry for a second. “Things about our world is what I mean. Yer parents’ world.”

“Our world?” Harry said. He felt a bit like a parrot of some sort by now.

Hagrid’s eyes widened. She spun back to face Uncle Vernon like lightning, and less than a second passed before she was in his uncle’s face. “Dursley,” she growled.

Harry thought that Hagrid looked quite a bit bigger than she actually was at that moment in time.

Uncle Vernon did too, apparently, judging by his face turning bone-white and his brain’s language centres seemingly failing him at that moment.

Hagrid looked back at Harry again. “There’s no way yeh don’t know yer mum an’ dad though. They’re famous after all. You’re famous.”

“W-what? My mum and dad were famous?” Harry asked. “Were they really?”

Hagrid’s face mouth dropped open. After a few seconds, she found her voice. “...Yeh don’t know what yeh are?”

“S-stop right there, miss!” Uncle Vernon said. Harry looked over at him; he was straighter, his face just a tad less pale. “I forbid you to tell the boy anything!”

The next second it was like there was an angry tiger in the room. Hagrid swivelled around and glared at Uncle Vernon. “You didn’t tell him,” she said, her voice flat and lacking most of her accent. “You never told Harry - Harry Potter - about anything. You kept that letter for him away from him. I saw Dumbledore leave it fer him. And you kept it from him for all these years.”

“Kept what?” Harry asked. He could feel his stomach fill with butterflies.

“No! Don’t tell him!” Uncle Vernon yelled.

Aunt Petunia gasped.

Hagrid just snorted. “Oh, you have nothing ter say here. It’s his birthright and you know it.” She turned towards Harry and spoke the words that would change his life.

“Yer a wizard, Harry.” Hagrid paused, then continued, muttering the rest under her breath to the point Harry could just barely hear her. “Or a witch or magician, if yeh wanna be. Depends on what happens overnight. But fer now, let’s just go with wizard.”

Harry gasped. “I’m a what?” he asked. He had always had rather odd dreams about having magical powers, and now it looked like those wouldn’t be dreams any more.

“A wizard.” She sat back down on the sofa. “Yer probably a thumpin’ good one too, considerin’ yer mum and dad.” She paused. “O’ course, that could change overnight too...”

That was the second time Hagrid had mentioned something happening overnight. “How could that change overnight?” he asked, a tinge of curiosity to his tone.

Hagrid blinked. “Did I say that out loud?” she said.

Harry nodded.

“...Don’t worry about it fer now,” she said. “If it comes up tomorrow it’ll come up tomorrow. Hopefully it won’t need to though.” Hagrid laughed rather uneasily. “Anyway, I think it’s time yeh read your letter, isn’t it?” She pulled out a yellowed envelope from her overcoat.

Harry’s mind didn’t quite let go of that question so easily, but regardless, he took the letter, dressed with an odd specificity as always. His hands shook as he tore it open, pulling the letter out in excitement.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Headmistress: Merrybell Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr./Ms./Mx. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress.

Harry’s brain exploded with questions - the burning one of what may happen overnight one of them, but pushed back to make way for other ones. Eventually one of them found its way to his mouth, and he blurted out “What does it mean when it says they await my owl?”

Hagrid blinked, then gasped. “Bloody hell, nearly fergot!” she exclaimed. She reached into a pocket in her overcoat, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper from her overcoat and scribbling something down in writing that looked rather practiced but not quite perfect. Next, she rolled the piece of paper up into a scroll.

Harry was a little disappointed she hadn’t pulled out an entire owl, but it wasn’t like she could fit one in that overcoat, was it?

“Hold on one second, Harry,” Hagrid said, standing up from the couch. She walked over to the door, opened it for just a second, and held out the paper. It was snatched out of her hands just a second later, and Harry swore he could hear enormous wingbeats flying away from the little shack, even through the storm.

Hagrid closed the door and clapped her hands together. “Right, so. Where were we?”

“He’s not going,” Uncle Vernon said. His face was still the colour of uncooked clay, but his voice was stronger now.

Hagrid glared at Vernon. “I would like ter see someone like you try and stop him,” she said.

Uncle Vernon scoffed. “God knows we’ve been trying for the past eleven years.That sort of rubbish isn’t proper for a boy.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. For a couple of seconds the cabin was silent, the sound of the storm all he could hear“You knew I was a wizard?” he said.

“Knew?” Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice cut through the air. “Of course we knew! How could you not be one of them, what with my sister being what she was? Oh, she gets a letter to this wonderful school and every vacation she comes back turning teacups into rats!” She snorted. “I was the only one who could tell she was a freak, but oh, no, my mother and father thought Lily was oh so wonderful! They were proud to have a witch in the family, imagine that!”

Taking a breath, Petunia continued on, undaunted. “Then she met Potter, and they married and had you, and of course I knew you would be just as strange, just as- as weird as her, and then she got herself blown up and we got landed with you!”

Harry went white. “B-but you told me my mum and dad died in a car crash!”

The room went quiet, an oppressive force suddenly filling it out of nowhere. “A car crash?” Harry heard Hagrid whisper from next to him. She stood up, not facing the Dursleys, but it was clear how angry she was. “Yeh told him that James and Lily Potter died in a car crash? He doesn’t even know his own history when every kid in the world o’ magic knows his name?”

“But why- how- what happened?” Harry asked, his voice trembling.

Hagrid turned towards Harry and frowned. “Well... I could tell yeh tomorrow, but I got a feelin’ that yeh would rather know now... alright. Now listen closely.”

And with that, Hagrid launched into a tale of what happened on the night of Harry’s birth - of his mother and father sacrificing themselves, and of a man called Lord Voldemort who was also known as ’You-Know-Who’ because people were scared of saying his name (Hagrid had only said it after Harry had insisted a few times, though she had been hesitant regardless), who cast a killing curse on him which didn’t work. Uncle Vernon tried to interrupt a couple of times, but Hagrid took none of that, threatening him with the same umbrella she had used earlier. As Hagrid’s story drew to a close, though, Harry remembered something - the flash of cold green light that had haunted his dreams for years, and a laugh, cold and cruel and pure evil.

Hagrid sighed as she finished, a sad look on her face. “Took yeh from the ruined house meself at Dumbledore’s orders - dropped yeh off with this lot. Hoped they would be a bit better for yeh than they obviously were.”

“Load of old tosh-” Uncle Vernon started, but a single glare from Hagrid stopped him, and he shrank back in on himself.

“But what happened to Vol- You-Know-Who?” Harry blurted out.

“Well, he vanished. The same night yer parents died - same night he tried to kill you. No-one knows why.” She shrugged. “Some people say he died - I’m not sure he was human enough to die. Some think he’s still out there biding his time, but if he was, his minions would still be doing his dirty work, I figure. Most of us think he survived but lost most of his power - like a ghost or somethin’. But you beat him, everyone knows that. There was something in yeh that made it happen.”

Hagrid’s face was filled with pride and warmth when she looked at him - two things Harry was rather sure he didn’t deserve. “...I think you might be wrong, Hagrid,” he said. “I don’t think I could be a wizard.”

“Not a wizard?” Hagrid raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t yeh ever done something unexplainable when you were angry or scared?”

Harry thought back, staring into the fire. Several memories came to mind - all sorts of odd things had happened when he was angry or scared. He almost couldn’t count them.

He looked back up at Hagrid, almost unable to contain his smile.

Hagrid smiled back. “See? No way yeh aren’t a wizard. Yeh’ll do well at Hogwarts.”

“I-I’ve told you he’s not going, haven’t I?” Uncle Vernon said, having regained his courage. “He’ll be going to Stonewall High and he’ll be grateful for it - I looked at those letters and he need all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and-”

“If he wants to go, I don’t think someone like you would be able ter stop him,” Hagrid snapped, hand on her umbrella. “Lily and James’ son, not going to Hogwarts? That would be crazy. His name has been written down for admission since he was born. He’s off to the greatest school of Magic in the world - seven years there and he’ll be better than before. He’ll finally be away from you lot, an’ he’ll be under the greatest Headmistress Hogwarts has ever seen, Merrybell Dum-”

“I am not paying for some crackpot old witch to teach him magic tricks-” Uncle Vernon spat.

Hagrid’s face contorted into one of fury, and for the first time since she had been here, her voice rose to a shout. “Never insult Merrybell Dumbledore in front of me!”

That said, she pulled up the umbrella and pointed it directly at Uncle Vernon. A bolt of amber light shot out of the end, and for a second it looked like nothing was happening.

Then Uncle Vernon started to shrink.

After a few seconds, he looked like a miniature version of himself - his moustache and adult face still on his body, while his clothes fell all over the him. Aunt Petunia gasped in horror, and Dudley clamped his hand over his mouth.

Pulling the other two together, Aunt Petunia dragged them into the other room and slammed the door shut.

Hagrid looked rather sheepish. “Shouldn’ta lost me temper,” she mumbled. “Meant to turn him into a child. Should wear off in a couple days or somethin’. Just... please don’t talk about this at Hogwarts?”

Harry blinked. “Why?” he asked.

“I’m not supposed ter do magic- not really. All I was supposed to do was follow yeh around and get yer letter to you - part o’ why I wanted the job, you see-”

“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” Harry asked.

“Ah, let’s talk about it another time. It’s rather late, and we got lots ter do tomorrow,” Hagrid said. “Got to get all yer books and all.” She pulled off her overcoat and threw it to Harry. It was big enough to fit over him. “You can lie under this. Should be comfy enough.”

Harry obliged, folding his glasses closed and putting them down by his side.

——————————

It was early the next morning when Harry woke up. He kept his eyes shut though, even though he could see the daylight through his eyelids.

Yesterday was a dream, he told himself. He had dreamed that a pink-haired lady called Hagrid had come to tell him he was going to a school for wizards called Hogwarts, and when he opened his eyes he would be back home in his cupboard.

There was a tapping noise.

And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, he thought, his heart plummeting. He still didn’t want to open his eyes; the dream had been wonderful.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Alright, I’m up,” Harry mumbled. He sat up and opened his eyes.

He was still in the hut. Hagrid’s coat fell off his body, the rays of sunlight lighting the lady in question, who had fallen asleep on the couch, up.

Meanwhile, a rather small owl rapped its claw on the window, a rolled-up newspaper in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, hair falling over his back as he did. He didn’t even pay attention to that, or how he felt rather lighter than he did even yesterday, just running towards the window and pulling it open without even stopping to put his glasses back on first.

The little owl swooped in and dropped the paper on top of Hagrid face, before coming to a roost on Hagrid’s coat and starting to peck at it.

“Hey, stop!” Harry said.

The owl, of course, didn’t stop.

Instead, Harry turned to Hagrid, a scowl on his face. “Hagrid! There’s an owl-”

“Pay him,” Hagrid mumbled. She looked to be stretching out, the paper still on her face.

Harry blinked. “What?”

“He wants payment for deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.”

Hagrid’s coat didn’t seem to be much other than pockets. Harry rifled through a few, finding teabags in the first and some birdseed in the second, before pulling out some strange assorted coins.

“Give him 5 Knuts,” said Hagrid.

“Knuts?”

“The little bronze ones.”

Harry counted out 5 of them.

The little bird held out his leg, a leather pouch attached to it, and Harry dropped the 5 coins into it. Then the bird flew away out the open window.

Hagrid pulled the newspaper off her face, yawning. She opened her eyes. “We best be off- oh.” Her eyes opened wide and she sat up straight.

Harry blinked. “What is it, Hagrid?” he asked.

Hagrid coughed. “Well, I don’t know how best to say this meself- hold on, give me my coat back.”

Harry, confused, did so, dropping the little coins back into their pocket as he did. They clinked back in, and Hagrid rifled through the pockets herself before pulling out what looked to be a pocket mirror. Harry was surprised; she didn’t think she was the type to carry that sort of thing.

She tossed it towards him, and he caught it. “Take a look at yerself in that,” she said. “I’ll explain while yeh do.”

Harry flicked open the mirror. Staring back at him was an unfamiliar face - the cheekbones and chin were all different and his hair wasn’t nearly that long, not to mention that his eyes weren’t brown. Overall, he looked softer - kind of girly even.

Weirdly enough, he didn’t actually mind.

The scar was still there. But it was faded - silvery. Not like how it normally looked, like an open wound. And he could see perfectly without wearing his glasses.

“Well, yeh see,” Hagrid began, “it started about 5 years ago or somethin’. Out o’ nowhere, British wizards and witches were suddenly changin’ overnight - most o’ us turned into girls or women. Few of us had to look at what we thought o’ gender an’ boys and girls an’ stuff.”

Harry kept staring at his new face.

“Not sure who was the first, o’ course, but it got labelled as a plague. Y’see, it happened to all sorts -from some o’ the greatest people I know, like Dumbledore, to some o’ the worst. Some people accepted the change, even liked it, while for others, it was somethin’ they hated and needed to fix.” Hagrid shrugged her shoulders. “I fer one didn’t really mind either way. But a lot o’ the people who were changed looked weird, an’ got some kind o’ weird power too. I can’t remember most o’ the details, though; I’m sure Poppy’ll fill yeh in in the class. Anyway, since then, there’s a chance that when a Witch or Wizard turns 11, they’ll change overnight.”

Harry looked up at Hagrid. “S-so I’m a girl now?” he - she? - asked, his voice trembling. The idea was oddly terrifying yet at the same time enticing.

Hagrid shrugged again. “Only if yeh wanna be,” she said. “It’s fine if yeh don’t know, though - we all work through this at our own pace. I’m still not sure meself.” She giggled. “Didn’t much like me first name anyway, though, so I ditched it.”

Harry felt a tremulous smile cross his face. “O-okay,” he said. The future felt bright.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror again, a smile crossing his face.

“Yeh look a lot like yer mum now, by the way,” Hagrid said suddenly.

Harry blinked, turning his head to look at her. “Really?”

“Yep. Yeh have a similar face - though yeh have yer dad’s eyes now. And his hair.” Hagrid coughed. “Anyway, enough o’ that; we have to go off to London and get yer books and school supplies.” She stood up, pulling on her coat and shoes.

Harry thought back to the coins he had pulled out of Hagrid’s coat. “But, I don’t have any money,” he mumbled. “And Uncle Vernon won’t pay for me to go to Hogwarts.”

Hagrid scoffed. “Yeh don’t think yer parents didn’t leave yeh some money?” she asked. “We’ll be pickin’ some up from the wizard’s bank Gringotts.”

“Wizards have a bank?”

Hagrid nodded. “Yep. Run by goblins.”

Harry gawked. “Goblins?”  
  


“Yep. Have a sausage, by the way - yeh need some breakfast. But anyway, it’s underground, so it’s the safest place in the world if yeh wanna keep somethin’ safe. ’cept maybe Hogwarts. Which reminds me, I have t’ pick somethin’ up from there fer Dumbledore anyways...”

As Hagrid rambled on, Harry had a feeling today was going to be wonderful.


	2. Diagon Alley and King’s Cross

“Well, here we are, Harry,” Hagrid said, hands on her hips. “The Leaky Cauldron.”

Harry stared at the entrance to the pub. It looked ancient and run-down; he wouldn’t have even seen it himself if Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out. After the magical trip Hagrid had taken him on, using the rowboat Uncle Vernon had borrowed from the old man and the train ride where people had stared at Hagrid very intensely, being that she was a woman with very pink hair and a rather odd hairstyle, he had expected something just a tad bigger.

“It’s famous, yeh know,” Hagrid added.

An errant strand of very long black hair fell down into Harry’s face as he stared. Brushing it out of the way and ignoring the odd lightness in his chest he felt, he looked back at the pub. Then he noticed something rather odd.

The people who were passing by seemed to not even notice it. The big book store on one side and the record shop on the other seemed to grab more of their attention.

Harry was about to speak up when Hagrid walked forward, into the shop. He hurried behind her.

The inside looked rather run-down, just like the outside. It wasn’t something Harry would expect of a famous building, at any rate. The bar was rather full though; there were a few tables surrounded by rather normal-looking wizards and witches. Well, normal-looking compared to Hagrid, at least. There was a little man talking to the bartender, who was... well.

Harry stared.

The barkeeper was a rather tall woman with blonde hair and red eyes. She was dressed in a rather casual outfit.

She also had a rather large red horn in the center of her forehead, a yellow marking shaped like a star emblazoned onto it.

Oddly enough, Harry had a feeling that he’d seen her before. She brought to mind some sort of city after night or something.

The chatter had already stopped when they walked in, Harry noticed after a second of staring. It seemed like most people knew Hagrid, given that she seemed to be waving back at almost half the bar.

The bartender perked up when she noticed Hagrid, and smiled. “Ah, Hagrid! The usual today?”

“Can’t, sorry, Tam. I’m here on Hogwarts business.” She clapped Harry on the shoulder.

The bartender nodded, looking Harry in the face. “Alright- hold on.” Her eyes narrowed, then widened. “Is this- no, it can’t be... Harry Potter?” The last two words were whispered underneath her breath, to the point where Harry could only tell she said them because he could read her lips, even.

“I’ll probably come in tomorrow,” Hagrid said loudly. “Got to get some books today. This kid is a new Hogwarts student, you see.”

The bartender looked like she was about to speak up, but instead sighed and nodded. “Got it. Well, I’ll be seeing you then.”

Hagrid nodded. With that, she led Harry forward through the bar, to a small courtyard out the back. It looked mostly empty, only a single rubbish bin punctuating the brick wall behind it.

“Why did the barkeeper have a horn?” Harry blurted out.

Hagrid blinked, looking down at him. “Ah. Well, yeh see... not quite sure how ter put this... sometimes when someone transforms, they’ll be a little different-lookin’ than a regular human. Not much different though. Most only have a horn or two, or a couple wings or something. Anyway, do yeh still have yer letter?”

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out the letter.

“Good.” Hagrid nodded in approval. “There’s a list of everything yeh need in there. Make sure ter take a quick look. Now, where’s me umbrella...”

Harry blinked, then nodded. He opened the letter as Hagrid pulled the umbrella out of her overcoat, out of one of those pockets that seemed to be bigger on the inside. Pulling out the letter, he took a look at it.

It listed several uniform clothes - mostly robes, but it did mention that there would be a time when students could wear clothes outside of their uniforms, usually on days with no classes - as well as books and just supplies in general, including a wand and a cauldron (probably for potions, Harry’s instincts told him). The book that stood out the most to Harry was called Changing and You: A Guide to Transformation by someone called Poppy Pomfrey, which he had the odd feeling was not quite as ingrained in the curriculum as the other books were. It also emphasized very clearly that first year students could not have a broomstick. That brought to mind the image of a girl with blonde hair in a very witchy outfit and pointy hat riding a broom.

Harry looked up again. Hagrid seemed to be just standing there, searching through her overcoat.

Finally, out of a pocket that looked a bit too small for it, she pulled out the umbrella.

“Watch this, Harry,” she said, before tapping the umbrella on the courtyard bricks ahead of them in a very specific order.

With one final tap, the bricks began to grind and fold in upon themselves. Harry stared in wonder as they folded back into an archway, revealing a bustling street full of people, some with odd hair colours and appendages, and mysterious but wonderful shops. It was winding and twisting in all sorts of impossible ways.

“Welcome, to Diagon Alley.” Hagrid’s voice was rather proud.

Harry’s eyes darted from one shop to the next - from cauldrons to candies and books to broomsticks, it seemed like there was everything a wizard or witch would be looking for.

He looked up at Hagrid.

Hagrid giggled. “Didn’t I tell yeh we have to go to Gringotts first?” she said.

Harry almost pouted, but then relented. He could look at all the shops later, after all.

The trip to Gringotts was enchanting. They entered through massive bronze and silver doors, through which goblins bowed them in, and Hagrid had presented one of the goblins at the counter with Harry’s key and a mysterious letter. Harry had a feeling there was something important about it, but Hagrid had refused to tell him anything further. The goblins had also mistaken him for a girl, which was somewhat appropriate considering what had happened, and Harry had liked for some odd reason, even if he was pretty sure he wasn’t one on the inside.

Following that, they had entered a cavern through a door in the bank and ridden a mine cart that seemed to move as fast as a car, twists and turns going by by the millisecond.

They had two stops - the first was Harry’s vault. When the cart stopped, Hagrid seemed a little green, but she composed herself after a few seconds. “Sorry Harry,” she said, gulping in air. “I’m not the best with twists and turns, yeh see. Better ’n I used to be at least...”

The goblin - who was called Griphook - took out Harry’s key and used it to unlock the door.

Hagrid perked up as the door slid open, like a non-magical door but without any obvious machinery. “Ah, that’ll be yer vault,” she said.

Harry blinked. “Really?” he asked, before looking back at the vault.

Smoke billowed out of it, before dissipating and revealing the contents: veritable pillars of gold.

Harry gasped. His eyes were wide and almost sparkling. “That’s, all mine?” he managed to ask Hagrid after a few seconds, his eyes not leaving the piles.

Hagrid nodded, a large smile on her face. “Yeah, it is,” she said.

Harry had never had this much money before in his life. Actually, he was fairly certain he had never seen this much money in his life - maybe he’d seen the equivalent in objects, like all of Dudley’s presents combined (and maybe then, even that wasn’t quite enough). But never quite like this.

He had the strange urge to jump into the pile of money, and almost succumbed to it before he heard Hagrid cough.

“You shouldn’t take too much,” she said. “You only need enough your school supplies and a couple terms.”

Harry could almost feel himself deflate. “Okay,” he said.

Fortunately, Harry learned that was more than enough.

When they left the vault and Griphook closed it, Harry had two bags of coins almost full to the brim with galleons with a few sickles left over. For one of the first times in his life, he felt not just happy but truly satisfied.

Before they could leave the bank, though, they made one more stop - this time in a place Harry had a feeling was far deeper underground than the first. Griphook opened the vault with his finger, and Hagrid pulled out a mysterious small package before stowing it in one of her many pockets.

While they were on the ride back, Harry tried to ignore Hagrid’s near-green complexion for the whole ride and instead wondered what that package was.

It didn’t seem like he would be getting any answers today, however; when the two left the bank, Hagrid did all she could to keep off the topic of the mysterious package, no matter what Harry asked her.

Soon he found himself and Hagrid standing in front of a tailor’s shop. “Madam Malkin’s?” he asked.

Hagrid nodded. “Yeah. She does a lot o’ the clothes for Hogwarts. She’s the best at her job in England, I figure. Speakin’ of which, you alright if while you go an’ get your uniform I go an’ get myself a little pick-me-up from the Leaky Cauldron? Gringotts always throws me off, you see.”

Harry could tell - Hagrid seemed a little uncoordinated after she had gotten off the cart. Still, he did feel a little nervous about the idea, but he steeled himself and said “That’s okay.”

When he stepped in and met Madam Malkin, his fears were allayed a little. The kind smile on the squat witch’s face seemed genuine at least.

“Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year, dear?” When Harry managed a nod, Malkin smiled and continued. “Got another first year being fitted up too - a young man.”

She led him to the back of the shop, where a pale young man stood on a footstool while another witch pinned up his robes.

Harry found himself on a stool next to him in short order, waiting as Madam Malkin pinned the robe for him.

“Hello,” the boy said. His voice held a touch of arrogance that Harry vaguely recognised. “Hogwarts too?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“My father’s buying my books next door and my mother’s looking at wands,” he said. “Then I’ll get them to get me a racing broom. I don’t see why the school doesn’t allow first years to have them. I’ll force father to get me one and smuggle it in, of course.”

Harry frowned at the boy’s words. He sounded like Dudley.

“Do you have a broom?” the boy asked.

“No.”

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, I play it. Father says I’m one of the best on a broomstick of my age, and it’ll be a crime if I’m not chosen for my house’s Quidditch team. What house do you think you’ll be in, by the way?”

Harry just shrugged. “No.” He was growing more lost by the second - this boy was clearly proud of himself, but his ongoing questions weren’t exactly teaching him anything.

“I suppose you never really know until you get in, do you? Well, I’m hoping to be in Slytherin - none of those ghastly infected there, after all.”

’Ghastly infected’? Harry scowled, deciding he didn’t much like this boy.

“I hope you’re in there too. A cute girl like you is someone who should be in there- oh my! Look at that woman!”

The boy pointed at the window.

As he looked away, Harry shuddered, but was relieved - he didn’t particularly care for the way the boy was treating him, like he wasn’t even a person. Hagrid was waiting outside though, holding two cones of ice cream in her hands.

“That’s Hagrid,” Harry said.

“Oh, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts? I’ve heard of her - although I heard she was a man before or something. One of those infected. Honestly, I don’t see why the Ministry allows that school to stay open as it is - Father has-”

“I don’t care,” Harry interrupted. His eyes narrowed. “I think she’s wonderful.”

“Really?” The boy raised an eyebrow. “Why is he with you anyways? Didn’t your parents bring you here?”

“They’re dead.”

“Oh. I see.” The boy just sounded curious. “But they were part of our kind, weren’t they? Not muggles?”

“I don’t see why that matters, but I’ve heard they were wizards.” Harry was doing his best to hold in the cold fury in his voice at this point. He wasn’t quite sure why, but what this boy was saying made Harry feel less and less sympathetic towards him. He did wonder what a muggle was for a second, but given the context he assumed that they were what some people called others without magic.

“Well, I mean, we shouldn’t let the other sort in, should we? They don’t even know about our world after all. I think Hogwarts should keep things in distinguished families rather than just admit anyone.”

Before Harry’s temper reached critical mass, Madam Malkin coughed. “You’re done now, dear.”

Harry stepped off the footstool, ignoring the boy’s question about his surname as he left. Soon he found himself outside with Hagrid again, eating a rather nice ice cream.

After a few minutes of cooling down from the discussion and talking with Hagrid, trying not to mention just how rude the boy was, Harry found himself shopping for more supplies. Thankfully he didn’t run into the rather rude boy again, instead finding himself having the time to explore all sorts of wondrous things in the alleyway while searching for a purchase.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful aside from Hagrid talking him out of buying a golden cauldron and getting him a pet snowy owl. At least, until Hagrid brought him to Ollivander’s Wand Shop, waiting outside with the owl.

Harry stared at the inside of the cluttered ro. Boxes of wands lay all over the place - some piles of boxes spiralled up to the two-story roof, tilting precariously but not quite falling over.

“Ah, welcome.”

Harry jumped, turning towards the source of the voice. It was an old man with crazy white hair and glittering pale eyes.

The old man’s eyes widened as he approached. “Harry Potter? I see, I see,” he mumbled. “Well, I had expected you soon, but not quite like this. Your eyes are quite like your father’s. I still remember him getting his wand all those years ago like yesterday - Mahogany, eleven inches, quite good for transfiguration and rather powerful. And your mother’s... well, willow and swishy; ten and a quarter inches long and great for charms.”

He jumped back, almost floating, and Harry froze.

“Of course, we aren’t here to discuss the past,” the man - probably Ollivander - said. “We are here to discuss the future - your future, to be precise, and your wand’s future. Now, before we begin this, I must warn you - you do not choose your wand. Your wand chooses you. Do you understand?”

Despite the anxiety Harry felt in his chest, he nodded.

“Alright. Now then Mr.- or perhaps Ms., though I would wager you aren’t certain- well, I suppose just Potter works- well, Potter, which is your wand arm?”

“Um- I’m right-handed?” Harry said.

“Ah, perfect. Now hold your arm out please.”

Harry did so, and Ollivander measured it faster than Harry thought possible, taking all sorts of measurements.

“Now, Potter, you must remember this: each wand core of Ollivander’s is unique. No two are the same, just like no two people are the same - the wand that chooses you won’t work for another wizard as well, just as another’s won’t work quite as well for you.” He turned around, and the tape measure continued to measure on its own as he rambled. “Now, just wait a moment and I shall have wands for you to try. First is this - Yew and Dragon Heartstring, ten and a half inches, stiff.”

Harry took the wand out of the box for less than a second, before Ollivander frowned and shook his head. “No, no... now try this...”

Minutes dragged on by as wands and wands were presented to Harry by the old man, before being snatched out less than a second later. Then there was suddenly a gleam in Ollivander’s eye. “Well... I wonder?” He dashed towards the back shelves, and Harry watched as he disappeared before reappearing, a wand box in his hand.

He held the box very carefully, transporting it towards the counter where Harry stood and placing it down, opening it up to reveal another wand. But this wand felt different to him for some reason, even from just looking at it. “Here, try this. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry picked up the wand, and out of the end of it shot red and white sparks, which quickly became what looked to be fireworks.

Ollivander smiled. “Ah, curious, curious. It seems we’ve found your want, Potter. But I must tell you, this wand has a brother. A most curious brother. For you see, the Phoenix that gave this wand its feather only chose two wands - one was this wand, but the other.” His eyes grew distant. “Yew. Thirteen and a half inches. The same wand that gave you your scar.”

Harry blinked, then shuddered.

“How curious that its brother chooses you. Since after all the wand chooses the wizard... and Potter, since this wand’s brother belonged to You-Know-Who and helped him do many great but terrible things, I am sure you will do great things too.”

Harry nodded, feeling numb. He paid the seven galleons for the wand then left, meeting up with Hagrid outside, half-dazed.

“Ollivander’s a very intense man, isn’t he?” Hagrid asked him. She must have seen the look on his face.

Harry just nodded again.

“You got a wand then?” Hagrid asked.

He nodded and brought the wand out of his pocket.

“Alright. Well, I suppose it’s time to be off then, isn’t it?”

——————————

The day didn’t last much longer. Harry was taken to eat by Hagrid, then given a train ticket back to the closest station to Little Whinging, with all his supplies, as well as one to Hogwarts later in the year. He must have looked a little silly, carrying everything as he did, when he got back to the Dursleys’ house.

Uncle Vernon seemed more like normal now, quite a bit larger (although not quite as big as he was before yet) ,though at first he questioned who Harry was, wondering why a weird young girl would come to their front door and call him uncle. After Aunt Petunia paled and whispered in his ear something Harry couldn’t quite hear, Vernon paled too and just let him in without much comment.

The last month of Summer was both uneventful and unfun. Dudley was scared stiff of him, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn’t even acknowledge him most of the time. He spent a lot of time with his new owl, though, which he would have named Marisa for some reason he couldn’t quite recall if he hadn’t found the name Hedwig, which she seemed to be rather fond of.

As the days counted down, he counted them down on a piece of paper with a marker, ticking them off as they came.

The day of, he was surprised Uncle Vernon had even dropped him at the train station - apparently he was happy to have Harry out of is hair, after the transformation had happened to change what he had looked like along with his sex and made things weirder for the Dursleys.

Harry found himself alone at the train station, holding all his supplies in a trolley he had found. He could find Platform 9 and 10 fairly easily, of course, but no matter how he tried, Platform nine and three quarters was nowhere to be found. He even tried asking a guard, who looked more baffled than anything. He was just about to give up when he heard an older woman’s voice say something like “-in case you’ve forgotten, it’s Nine and Three Quarters-”

“Gran!” came the rather heated response. “I’m not going to forget the name of the platform that I need to go to Hogwarts!”

Harry swivelled around to look at the source of the voices. Walking towards the divider between platform 9 and 10 were an older lady with brown hair and glasses, wearing a hat that looked like a vulture, and a young girl around Harry’s age with silver hair and blue eyes.

Harry hurried to catch up to them, listening as the conversation continued.

“You’ve forgotten a lot of other things, Neville-”

“Don’t call me that, Gran! You know I like Vi better-”

“Oh, but- fine, Vi, you’ve forgotten a ton of other things; what makes you think that you won’t forget this?”

“I’m a lot better with that now Gran, and you know that!”

Harry cleared his throat. “Um, excuse me?”

The old lady turned towards Harry, and blinked. “Ah, sorry about that, young lady.”

Harry blushed a little at being called that, but soldiered on. “Er, it’s alright; there’s nothing to be worried about. I just heard you talking about Platform nine and three quarters and, well, you know-”

The old lady perked up, and the silver-haired girl - Vi, Harry recalled - looked towards him,l with interest in her eyes. “Ah, a first year at Hogwarts?” Vi’s Gran said.

Harry nodded.

“I suppose you don’t know how to get onto the platform?” she continued. “Nev- I mean, Vi doesn’t, either. I was just in the middle of explaining it to her.”

“No you weren’t,” Harry heard Vi mutter underneath her breath, her arms crossed and her trolley not held by her.

“I was just about to, don’t be rude,” her Gran said, tutting, before turning back to Harry and smiling. “Anyway, I’m Augusta Longbottom, and this is my... granddaughter, Vi Longbottom. Who might you be?”

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said.

Augusta’s eyes widened, and she gasped, and now Vi was looking right at him. “Harry Potter?” she mumbled to herself, before staring at Harry intently for a few seconds. “...So you were transformed, hm?”

Harry nodded, trying his best to hide the surprise that she had known his name. “Yes, Mrs. Longbottom,” he said.

“I see,” she said, mumbling underneath her breath. “Well, maybe you and my grands-” Vi coughed- “...my granddaughter could get along well - solidarity in common circumstance and all that.”

Harry looked at Vi, who by his estimation seemed pretty cool, before looking back at Mrs. Longbottom and smiling. “I guess I could try that,” he said.

“That’s good to hear. Vi hasn’t-”

“I thought we were going to learn how to get onto the platform,” Vi interrupted.

Mrs. Longbottom blinked, then chuckled. “Ah, I had forgotten about that for a second. Sorry, sorry... Anyways, I’m glad to help you with this, Harry. So, to enter Platform Nine and Three Quarters, you must walk directly at the barrier between Nine and Ten, and not stop or be scared that you’re going to crash into the wall. Then, you’ll be on the platform - easy as pie.”

Harry looked at the divider. “So I have to run into that?” he asked.

“You don’t have to run. You can just walk, too,” Mrs. Longbottom said.

“...Okay,” Harry said. He looked at Vi, who was paying full attention to Mrs. Longbottom now. “So, do we both go one at a time, or...”

“Ah, I’ll go first,” Mrs. Longbottom said with a smile. “Show you it’s safe, of course. You can go next, Harry.”

And with that, she turned around and began to walk directly at the barrier, before disappearing into it. It didn’t even ripple; she just went in.

Harry stared.

Vi, meanwhile, sighed. ”Well, go on then,” she said, looking at Harry. “I suppose she’ll be mad at me if you hold me up for too long.”

“Is your Gran always like that?” Harry blurted out.

Vi gave a slight chuckle. “No, only when she’s worried. I guess I’ve worried her a lot more than usual lately.” She waved her hand. “Go on, then. Go through the barrier.”

Harry turned towards the barrier and gulped, before steeling himself. If Mrs. Longbottom could do it, why couldn’t he?

So he walked forwards, not stopping, and through the bricks of the barrier. For a second he was shrouded by darkness, before light appeared and he saw a massive train platform in front of him, filled with wizards and witches of what looked to be all ages and perhaps species too.

Harry was gobsmacked.

Mrs. Longbottom, who stood in front of him, just smiled. “This is Platform Nine and Three Quarters.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harry looked around the platform. There was a big metal arch that said ’Platform 9 & 3/4’ on it, and Harry could see a group of girls with red and green hair standing next to a woman with straw-blonde hair, a young-looking redhead being the most notable one since she was complaining about not being able to go to Hogwarts yet. There were a lot of people loading their luggage, too.

He heard the sound of a cart behind him, and looked over his shoulder. Vi had come through the barrier, and gave a sigh of relief when she did. “Thank goodness,” she muttered to herself. Out of her chest (which was covered by a rather plain white blouse) came a small white droplet-shaped... blob thing. It was mostly opaque, but Harry could see through it a little.

Harry stared. “What is that?” he asked.

Vi blinked, looking up at Harry. “Oh, this?” The blob curled in mid-air and floated around her head like a lazy tadpole. “It’s me.”

“It’s you?”

“Yeah,” Vi said. “Or at least, part me.”

Harry examined the blob. “How do you know?” he asked.

Vi shrugged her shoulders. “I just know.” She sighed, continuing. “I can move it, make it change a little, I can even feel stuff with it. So as far as I know, it’s just a part of me.”

Harry nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. It must be odd, though.”

“You’re telling me.” Vi scoffed, looking like she was about to continue.

She was interrupted by a cough from Mrs. Longbottom. “The train should be going soon, you two. It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry, but I would rather not have you be late to your first year of Hogwarts. Now I just need to check with my granddaughter to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything...”

Harry blinked, then looked over towards the train, ignoring the sudden squawk of indignation from Vi. A lot of students looked to be piling onto it - he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry.

He frowned, before looking back to Vi and Mrs. Longbottom, who seemed to be arguing once again. He cleared his throat, and their argument, which seemed to be about Vi’s forgetfulness, halted, the two of them turning to look towards him. “Um, thank you for helping me,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t have found the platform without you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, dear,” Mrs. Longbottom said, all smiles. “Now, off you go then; I still need to make sure that my granddaughter hasn’t forgotten anything-”

“Gran, you know I don’t forget things so badly any more-”

Harry, sensing that the argument would go on for a while, decided to leave before he was dragged into it himself.

He walked down the train, looking into the different cars. Most of them looked full to bursting, with a gaggle of people of all sorts of shapes and extra appendages, and some had people even fighting over their seats. Harry could swear he even saw one girl with an eye attached to her body with tentacles, but when he blinked there was no-one there.

Finally he reached a compartment that looked empty. Harry sighed in relief. He pulled Hedwig out of it and walked up, putting her on the seat near where he would sit before turning around and taking the trunk out of the trolley he had put it in, lifting it with a little less difficulty than he expected, though not without it - although he may not have grown height-wise after his transformation one month ago, his strength was a different matter.

He was fairly sure he could even fight back against Dudley. He wasn’t about to test it though, of course.

Pulling the trunk up, he edged it over the lip of one of the compartment stairs, straining a little but not too much, and setting it down sideways. He picked it up again after a couple of seconds, trying a little harder this time, and managing to clear the stairs entirely.

Harry did huff a little when the luggage was lying on the floor of the compartment when he heard a whistle.

“Wow, I thought you were going to need help,” came a girl’s voice.

Harry turned to look at the speaker. In front of him was a young girl with blue eyes and short red hair, butterfly wings on her back flitting intermittently as she floated above the ground.

“If anything, though, you’d be the one doing the helping, at least to get it up those stairs” she said. She stuck out her hand, grinning. “I’m George Weasley - just George, not short for Georgina or anything.”

Harry felt a little flustered - he couldn’t take his eyes off those wings on her back. Regardless, he shook hands with her. “Um, I’m Harry,” he said

“Harry, eh? You wouldn’t happen to be Harry Potter, then?” Harry felt his eyes widen, but before he could say anything, George burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’m sure it would be all over the news if it turned out that Harry Potter was a Transformed.”

“It would?” he asked.

George blinked, then scoffed. “Mum always complained about how all the Prophet could talk about was how Dumbledore was changed for almost a year after it happened. If they found out Harry Potter did, they would never shut up about it.”

Harry almost frowned. He was that famous? Nothing in Diagon Alley, except maybe his talk with Ollivander, had really pointed to that.

“Anyway,” George continued, her wings flitting again as she glanced over to the side, “I’ll be off - got to meet up with my twin sister. She’s probably off driving Nim mental. If you ever need any help, though, just look for me and I’ll be willing to give you some!”

And with that, she took off from where she was standing, her wings fluttering as she flew out of sight.

Harry just stared, his mouth dropping open. She could fly.

He felt a slight pang of envy in his heart - and yearning too. Harry wished he could fly.

Maybe then he could actually get away from the Dursleys.

Shaking his head and banishing the thought from his mind, he pulled the trunk into the compartment, pushing it into a corner.

He sat down next to the window, taking a quick glance outside of it. From there, he could see George land near her family - not quite close enough to hear their discussions, but close enough to see them. One short girl with green hair and a large badge on her chest with the letter P was glaring at a taller one, with pinkish-red hair, who George settled down next to.

Maybe that was her twin?

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when the door of the compartment slid open. Turning his head to look at the person who spoke, he saw Vi, standing in front of the entrance to the train compartment.

She promptly entered the compartment, dragging her luggage behind her like it was nothing, with the blob (which was, rather curiously, being ridden by a small toad) following close behind her. She deposited the luggage in the same corner that Harry’s was before flopping down onto the seats opposite with her eyes closed and groaning.

Harry frowned. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine, I just have a headache,” Vi mumbled, rubbing her forehead. “Gran doesn’t take no for an answer. Ugh, I don’t even know why I tried reasoning with her in the first place...”

Harry winced inwardly. “Oh.”

Vi sighed. “Yeah, oh.” After a few seconds of relaxing, she opened her eyes and smiled quite awkwardly. “...by the way, you don’t mind if I sit in this compartment, do you?”

“I don’t mind,” Harry said, smiling.

Vi sighed in relief, closing her eyes again as her face relaxed, almost melting into the seat. The blob with the toad on it did the same, although it stayed on the seat instead of falling into it.

Harry looked at the toad.

It was very much a toad. It had a lot of toadlike features, with its toadlike eyes and toadlike body.

“...What’s that toad?”

“Oh, that’s just my pet toad, Trevor,” Vi said, opening one eye.

“And you don’t mind him lying on that part of you? Wouldn’t he feel kind of slimy?” Harry didn’t think he could tolerate a slimy toad lying on him.

Vi snorted. “It’s better than him going off all the time. Besides, he’s not that slimy.” She paused. “That is, all the time. And even if he was, I don’t quite feel the sliminess through that part of me.”

“Huh.” Harry felt his lips quirk into a smile. “That sounds nice.”

“It is rather useful.” She closed her eye again. “I’m just happy I don’t need to look for Trevor every day of the week again.”

The rest of the time at the station was quiet. Harry didn’t mind, since that let him have some time to think to himself.

For the past month, he had almost forgotten how different people who had been transformed could look. After all, he looked almost normal - black hair and brown eyes were not uncommon in Britain. But today had put things back into perspective; there were people with wings, green hair, and all sorts of other crazy appearances.

He had read a bit of the transformation textbook, so he had been expecting a bit of crazy. But nowhere near as much crazy as there had been. Still, considering how crazy their appearances were, he could only begin to imagine the strange powers that some people had.

Harry looked out the window again. The platform seemed mostly empty now, with only a few parents and relatives standing around.

A few seconds later, he heard the train whistle toot twice. The rhythmic chugging of the engines followed soon after, and the train was off.

Outside of the window, he could see houses flash by, and his stomach seemed to be stuck in his chest in excitement.

His near-trance was interrupted when he heard the door to the compartment slide open. He looked back towards the door, blinking.

Standing there was a girl with light-green hair that fell past her shoulders and blue eyes, wearing a rather old and ratty grey shirt under a jacket and long pants. She was fairly tall - taller than Harry was, at least, and definitely far taller than Vi. She looked oddly familiar for some reason.

She scanned the compartment, first looking at Harry and then at where Vi, who was snoring peacefully, was sitting before sighing. “I don’t s’pose you have the room for one more?” she asked, her voice hopeful but despairing. “Everywhere else I’ve looked is full.”

Before he could stop himself, Harry found himself blurting out “You can sit next to me. I mean, if you want, of course,” he added, trying his best not to feel like a weird person and ignoring the heat on his cheeks.

The girl’s face lit up in a smile, and she sighed in relief. “Thanks,” she said, pulling a luggage case that seemed to be torn in some places behind her.

After a little bit of jostling with the luggage, with a bit of the outside casing falling off of it in the struggle to fit it somewhere so the girl could sit next to Harry, they finally managed to get it somewhere that could let the two of them fit rather comfortably.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” Harry said, once the two of them sat down.

“Harry? That’s an odd name for a girl.”

Harry winced. “Well, I’m not a girl - not really, I don’t think.” His heart ached a little at the admission - he wished he was one, a little. “I just woke up transformed like this one day.”

The girl tilted her head and frowned. “Really? You did too?” she asked.

Harry nodded.

“Blimey. Well, you don’t really look like someone who did.” Then she smiled. “Anyway, I’m Ron Weasley. And, well,” her smile faltered, “kinda in the same boat as you about the girl thing.” She sighed.

Harry blinked. Someone like him? He was pretty sure this was the first time he’d met someone like that; everyone else who seemed to be transformed seemed rather blasé about it. He kind of wished he could be the same - just be a girl like that. He knew it wasn’t that easy, though; he had been a boy all his life up until that day, so obviously that was what he was meant to be, right?

What came out of his mouth next was a simple “Oh.”

“Yeah. Feels weird already, having four older siblings who just accepted it, or didn’t care,” Ron said, his (Harry supposed) voice bitter like a glass of water with a single drop of lemon juice squeezed into it. “I wish I could accept it like they could - be a girl, just like that.”

Harry stared. “You have four older siblings?”

“Five, actually,” Ron said, his face falling and his voice flat. “My oldest brother Charlie didn’t change, but sometimes it feels like he wishes he did. I’m the sixth to go to Hogwarts.”

“I wish I had five wizarding siblings.” Harry thought back to his meeting with George Weasley. She seemed quite nice; having a sister like that would be great.

“No you don’t,” Ron said. “It’s awful - Billie was Head Girl and Charlie was the Quidditch captain, and Nimue’s a prefect now. Fay and George mess around a lot but they get really good marks and everyone likes them. They think I’ll do as well as them but I don’t think it matters if I do or not.” He looked down at his legs. “I don’t even have proper stuff of my own - I have my own wand, but my robes are Billie’s and I have Nimue’s old rat as a pet.” Reaching into his jacket, Ron pulled out a scruffy-looking rat, and put it on his lap.

Harry stared at the rat. It looked rather still. “Is it dead?” he asked after a few seconds.

“No, he’s just sleeping,” Ron said, scowling. “Might as well be, though. I don’t think I caught your full name, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said.

Ron’s eyes widened. “Harry Potter?!” he shouted.

Harry winced at the volume. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vi startle awake. “Yes. Not so loud though, please,” he said.

Ron blinked a couple of times, then made a face that was reminiscent of one Harry had seen on Uncle Vernon when he had asked about why certain areas felt funny. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Hey, could you not be that loud?” Vi’s voice came from the other seats.

Ron blinked, turning to look towards Vi. So did Harry.

Vi’s eyebrow was twitching, and her blob was rather restless, flitting back and forth - though somehow never flinging the little toad that had used it as a perch off of it.

“Um... sorry,” Ron offered.

At that, it looked like Vi was about to explode even further, but instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, her blob settling down as she did so, before breathing out again. Opening her eyes again, she sighed.

“I was having a nice dream about plants too - I had a Devil’s Snare, and was training it and all that,” she muttered underneath her breath, then looked at Harry. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Vi Longbottom,” said Harry.

Ron didn’t seem to be too interested in Vi, though - now he was staring at Harry again. “Are you really Harry Potter?” he blurted out.

Harry felt rather odd. This was the third time today his name had been thrown out there as something familiar by people he hadn’t met - and while the second time had made him feel more strange since he had found out he was apparently famous, this felt far more intimate. “U-um, yes,” he stammered.

“Do you have, like, you know?” Ron gestured towards his forehead.

Harry, a little weirded out,, was about show him, when Vi, her voice hot with anger, spoke up. “Hey, don’t force Harry into doing something that’s uncomfortable for her!”

Ron, startled, shrank back and looked down in guilt. “...oh. Sorry,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

Harry, meanwhile, felt a pang of both happiness and guilt at what Vi had called him, and looked over at her. “Um, Vi, you don’t have to-” he started.

Vi looked at Harry, and her face softened. “I know I don’t have to help you, but I want to anyway. God knows I needed some of my own.” She said the last bit quietly, but Harry could still hear it.

That was when someone slid the compartment door open. Harry blinked, turning to face a girl who looked to be about his age - she had blonde hair in a bob cut and eyes that changed colour slowly from moment to moment, flowing through the seven colours of the rainbow.

“Could you be quiet please? Some of us would like to practice all our magic in peace - and I’m trying my best to practice all I can; I’ve had a year and I still haven’t learned all of my first year spells fully, although I can’t do it at home so I have to go to Diagon Alley of course, and it’s ever so bothersome to have to do that so I can’t do it all the time, oh and I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”

As mesmerising as her eyes were, Harry reflected, what was even more impressive was how she had said all of that in a single breath.

“You practiced your magic over the past year?” Ron asked, his face set into one of confusion.

Hermione blinked, interrupting the flow of colour briefly. “Yes, of course; as soon as I found out I was magic, on my birthday last year, I practiced as much as I could. I was transformed you see, and some people from the Ministry of Magic came and revealed to me and my parents about magic and how I was a witch and what happened with transformations - I feel rather lucky that I got to stay a girl, at least - and that I would be going to this wizarding school called Hogwarts next year, so I went and bought a lot of supplies a year early. Why, don’t you know any?”

Ron frowned. “I know one - or at least, my older siblings told me one.”

“Really? Well, let’s see it, then.” Hermione crossed her arms, staring at Ron.

Harry glanced over at Vi, who met his gaze and held up a finger to her lips.

He looked back at Ron, who had drawn a wand - looking newer than everything else he had - and began to wave it.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,  
Turn this stupid fat rat yellow.”

He pointed the wand at Scabbers, who was still sleeping on his lap.

The wand did nothing.

Hermione scowled, looking up at Ron. “That’s not even a... spell?” She trailed off.

Harry looked up at Ron. And stared.

Ron blinked, looking at Harry, then Hermione, then Vi. “What?”

“You’re glowing,” Harry said.

Ron blinked again. The glow made his green hair look shiny, like grass, and his clothes looked better than they did before.

Most importantly though was the fact that Scabbers, still sleeping like a rock, had turned yellow.

The glow faded off of Ron’s body slowly, until he looked normal again.

Ron stared down at Scabbers, then after a few seconds grinned. “Wicked!”

Hermione looked up, staring at Ron. “That... that can’t be possible; that isn’t a spell, unless...” She trailed off, before turning around and huffing. “I need to practice more spells. Don’t be so loud again, otherwise I’ll be back to remind you.”

And with that, she left the room.

Harry was still staring at Ron. “How did you do that?” he asked after a few seconds.

“Blimey, I don’t know,” he said, staring down at Scabbers. “Like that Hermione said, I don’t think that was a real spell. I think I might have some special power or something.”

“Special power?” Harry said.

“Gran always said that sometimes people who are transformed get some sort of special power,” Vi piped up.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “All of my family except Charlie have one, and Charlie’s smart enough that it doesn’t matter.”

“So what is it? Changing the colour of things?” Vi asked.

That made Harry imagine Dudley with bright green skin. He almost giggled at the image of it.

Ron thought for a second, then shook his head. “Nah, that doesn’t sound right,” he said.

Vi shrugged. “I can’t really think of anything else.” She sighed, reaching out towards Trevor who still lay on her blob and patting him absentmindedly. “It does sound interesting, though. You could change the colour of foods to make them look even more delicious...” She looked up at the ceiling, and Harry could almost sweat he could see some drool coming out of her mouth.

Then Vi shook her head, her cheeks turning red and her blob flailing around in the air, though still never flinging Trevor off. “But never mind that! I-I didn’t mean anything by that at all!” She coughed once, looking to regain her composure. “Anyway... I never really said this, so I should probably say this now; it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ron.”

This time Harry did giggle, if only a little.

Nearly instantly, Vi’s head snapped towards him, her cheeks even redder. Even her blob had turned a little pink at this point. “H-hey, stop that,” she said. “It’s not funny!”

Harry’s giggles died down, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face. “Sorry, sorry, you’re right,” he said.

Ron chuckled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Vi.”

For the next few minutes, the room was filled with conversation - the three of them discussed their home lives (well, Harry and Ron did; Vi didn’t seem to wish to share much besides what Harry already knew), asking how Harry had beaten Voldemort (though Vi had thought it rather silly since of course he wouldn’t remember, but when Harry had used his name the two of them had gasped in terror) and finally, their future at Hogwarts.

At one point when Vi and Ron were talking about houses, though, Harry cleared his throat. “Um, I don’t know much about the Hogwarts houses.”

Vi and Ron turned to face him instantly. “You don’t know the Hogwarts houses?” Ron asked.

Harry scratched his head. “Well, not really,” he admitted. “I know about Slytherin; I heard Voldemort-”

Ron and Vi winced.

Harry winced as well. “Sorry, I mean, You Know Who came from there. And that Hufflepuff is for... hard workers, I think?”

“Well, that’s about right,” Vi said. “The other two houses are Ravenclaw, for smart people, and Griffindor, for brave people. A few weeks ago I wanted to be in Hufflepuff - now I’m not really sure.”

Ron looked at Vi and raised an eyebrow. “Hufflepuff? Isn’t it full of, well, duffers? Besides, my whole family’s in Gryffindor and I don’t want to be teased by Fay and George.”

Vi crossed her arms and huffed, her blob moving around restlessly. “I said I wanted to be there a few weeks ago - not now. I’ve changed since then.”

“Well anyway, Gryffindor is the place for me. How about you, Harry?” Ron asked, turning to look at him.

Harry thought about that for a second and frowned. His house; Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the hard workers, or Ravenclaw for the smart?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the compartment door opening. Outside stood a sweet-looking old lady, a trolley in front of her.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Harry decided he’d answer the question later. Now was time for food.


End file.
